


Bad Day

by Karashi



Category: Ben 10 Series
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karashi/pseuds/Karashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just how bad can a bad day be for Argit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day before Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> This was first written in 2009 with absolutely no connection or intention to connect with the events of Ultimate Alien. I liked Alien Force up to War of the Worlds and Trade Off. I refuse to touch any other episode after that with a fifty foot pole.
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply.

Dealing in the black market can be a very stressful, often times hazardous occupation. Disgruntled clients, former associates out for revenge, current associates who would stab you in the back at the first chance they get; funny how a couple million credits make it all worth it.

At least, that's what Argit tells himself on a bad day.

Like yesterday.

And the day before _that_.

The memories make Argit twitch while the numerous bruises mottling his body beneath his fur makes him wince. As much as he wishes he could just stay in his little hidey-hole in the slums, he forces himself to go to the local watering hole for non-humans. He still has business he needs to attend to, and when money is involved not even broken limbs can keep him away.

The trip takes him longer than usual, a good hour longer in spite of the photonic-displacement mask allowing him to travel in the open. By the time he arrives, Argit is all snarls and bristling quills. He yanks off the mask the instant he steps into the establishment, slipping it into his pocket as he scans the bar more commonly known as The Warehouse. He notes the place is fairly empty, happy hour isn't for another few hours or so, and he's glad for it. He doesn't need his already less-than-stellar rep to take a nosedive looking the way he did.

"Guess I know what the vulpimancer chewed up, spat out, and then dragged in," the fish-like bartender mocks from within his water-filled helmet.

"Shut it, Icthas," Argit hisses, eyes narrowed and teeth bared as he carefully sits himself down at the bar, "I ain't in the mood."

"Awwww, why is my Argy-Wargy such a pissy-ass tonight?" a petite, minx-like waitress asks as she saunters up to the tech-dealer.

"Midge," he smirks, glad for the sight of his favorite friend-with-benefits. The grin on his snout widens when she slides onto his lap and thick, black tail winds about his leg. But he lets out a sharp yelp when her weight puts too much pressure on his still-sore bruises. "Damn it, Midge, are you getting fat on me?"

The waitress makes an indignant huff, "I thought you liked it when I had more curves than angles."

"Yeah, I do. But fuck if it don't make me think a spheroid is sitting on my lap."

"Keep running at the snout like that and let's see if she'll keep being so obliging with you," Icthas snickers, not even deigning to looking up from busing the countertop.

Argit shoots the bartender a glare from the corner of his eye.

"Aw, I understand Argy," Midge playfully taps the end of the tech-dealer's snout with a finger, "You're always like this when you have a deal that gone sour. Frell knows I've seen you like this more times than I can count."

Icthas lets out another snicker.

Again, the tech-dealer glares daggers at the fish-like alien before explaining, "Actually, the _deal_ went as planned. The other was a-" he pauses for the appropriate term, "-surprise visit from a previous client."

"Then why you so banged up?" Midge asks.

"Two straight days of getting pushed around does that to a guy," he sighs dramatically.

"You mean your patented beg-grovel-run strat didn't work? What a shock that must have been," Icthas interrupts wryly.

"I swear the next time those fishy lips of yours open, I am going to fill it with so many quills you'll be shitting them for weeks," Argit snarls, visibly bristling before jabbing a finger roughly against the bartender's helmet.

The bartender doesn't look too worried about the threat, he simply grabs a fresh rag to wipe at the smudges Argit made on his helmet.

"Never mind him, Argy," Midge purrs and gently runs her paw up his chest and stops when she spies Argit's wince. "What's wrong?"

The tech-dealer grimaces before pulling at the collar of his red coat to reveal a tiny speck of a wound, "Ah, it's nothing. The previous client decided to give me a souvenir."

"Why don't you tell Midge allllll about it?"

"Oh, you are going to like this, babe. So there I was, inspecting a new shipment of holosistors when five killer Kygone drones suddenly showed up-"

\-------------------

_In reality, two days ago..._

Argit heard someone had been looking for him. Someone from off-world. That was never good. The reason why most self-respecting tech-dealers willingly stayed on a low-level planet like Earth was because they were, simply put, hiding from someone. Sure, there were some who were on Earth because they liked the place. But Argit was not one of them.

Earlier on his career he had double-crossed the wrong people, stepped on the wrong toes. And they apparently carried grudges no matter how petty they may be and were always eager to settle the score.

Despite his precautions and all attempts at losing his pursuers, Argit found himself cornered in an alley. Trapped like a rat. He swallowed thickly, unable to appreciate just how apt that figure of speech was. Especially while he stared at the two figures that had tracked him down and forced him into a dead end.

He recognized the taller one of the pair, which wasn't necessary a good thing. "Myaxx, long time no see. How'd you do with those parts I got you?" He nervously chattered, hoping the chimera sui generis wasn't out for his head.

"They were defective," she growled in response, crimson eyes narrowing at him.

Argit gulped, so much for hope. As quickly as he could, he pulled out the laser pistol hidden in his coat, only to have Myaxx's armored companion shoot it out of his hand. "We're not here about defective parts nor are we here for trouble." The shorter, stockier alien clarified, the barrel of his own blaster aimed directly at Argit who was wondering when the other guy had stepped forward and positioned himself between the chimera and the tech-dealer.

"We're here for information on the Wellor System," Myaxx clarified.

"I don't know nothing," was Argit's immediate reply, "But for five thousand credits I might be able to remember something."

"You got some nerve asking for that much when you're not exactly known for reliability," Myaxx frowned.

The armor-clad figure canted his head towards the chimera, "Explain then why we went to the trouble of tracking down someone so disreputable and useless."

Myaxx glowered, "Maybe if you hadn't spent nearly three fourths of the budget on background checks of our latest employer, we might be able to afford better information." The pair seemed distracted and Argit seized the opportunity to let loose a hail of his paralyzing quills. A smirk spread across Argit's snout; his aim had not been off. But his smirk did not last long.

The quills that shot at Myaxx ricocheted off of an invisible shield. Again, Argit found himself wondering when she was able to raise the barrier and whether this meant he was just getting slow on the uptake. If he was, well, maybe he ought to consider changing careers. His ego wasn't completely stamped down, his quills managed to knock the armor-clad alien's blaster out of his grip, but that was all they were able to accomplish.

The paralyzing projectiles seemed to have no effect.

Of course until that moment, Argit had no way to know Myaxx's companion had diamond-hard skin. The next thing the tech-dealer knew, the alley wall was rushing towards him to greet the back of his skull. The impact rattled his brain and almost rendered him unconscious. The thick fist roughly shaking him by the collar of his shirt and rattling his head even more nearly did the trick.

Only Myaxx's curt order of "Don't give the poor sap a concussion until we get what we came for," allowed Argit to maintian his tenuous grip on consciousness and gave him front-row seats to some of the brightest, dancing stars. Said stars were almost able to keep him from noticing how a thick fist had him dangling several inches off the ground. Almost. No amount of winking stars could have kept him from noticing that the other fist had sharpened into a dangerous, crystalline point and was hovering a hair's breadth from his throat.

"I was hoping this visit wouldn't turn into an altercation," the armored alien began, "But it seems a little rough-housing is in order to make our point."

"C-c'mon! I-it was just a little joke! Honest!" Argit squeaked and stared down at the dagger-sharp arm pressed against his neck.

The chimera snorted, not sounding the least bit sympathetic, and folded her arms across her chest, "The only joke here was your attempt at attacking us."

A lump had formed in Argit's throat but he didn't dare swallow. Not when each minute movement brought the dagger-point closer to piercing his hide.

"Wellor System," Argit heard the armored alien growl, "Tell us everything you know about the Wellor System. If it's good enough, I might change my mind about giving you a dozen new air-holes."

"You might want to ease up a little there, Shard," Myaxx snickered. "It's hard to make out coherent sentences in between spurting blood."

Argit felt the crystalline blade lift from his throat, and after drawing breath, rambled, "I-I don't know much except it's a map or something!"

Myaxx shook her head in disappointment and Shard pulled his arm back, preparing to impale the tech-dealer.

"Wait! Wait! I know it's a map to a, uh, to a power source!" Myaxx brought out a small device as Shard paused expectantly. "And and and that it's being kept somewhere in the Galaxian Ruins of Nestur IV! That's all I know, I swear!" When the chimera finished typing in the information, Shard unceremoniously dropped Argit to the ground with an audible crack of his skull meeting cement.

"That information isn't even worth a hundred credits," Myaxx sneered, strapping the recording device back into its casing, "But I suppose it'll have to do."

The crystalline blade reverted back into a thick, blocky arm as Shard dusted his hands off. Argit knew better than to get on his feet while the chimera and her companion were still in the vicinity. The tech-dealer remained where he was, sprawled on the ground, feigning unconsciousness as he waited for the pair to leave. His yelped echoed against the walls when he felt himself being lifted off the ground by the collar of his shirt. His scream was shrill and piercing when he felt himself being stabbed in the neck.

"Quit your whining, she's just getting your DNA signature with a syringe," Shard scoffed as Myaxx held out a needle barely a hair-strand's width. 

Argit's snout trembled as he rubbed the tiny, pinprick wound where the needle punctured his hide.

The pair of aliens turned on their heels to leave when Argit whimpered out, "W-why would you even want my DNA signature?"

Without looking over his shoulder, Shard answered, "It makes tracking you down easier."

"Cheaper too," Myaxx added as an after thought.


	2. Yesterday

"-And then they tried to get the drop on me! They thought they had me cornered but I managed to kick their asses and sent them with their prehensile tails between their legs! I felt so bad for them, I let one of them nick me," Argit finishes with a gesture to his neck.

Midge lets out an impressed gasp, "Wow, Argy! Who knew you could be so strong!"

Icthas simply rolls his eyes, arranging glasses behind the counter with a snide thought of _Thank goodness she's as beautiful as she is dumb._

Then Midge adds, "But if that's all they ever did, how come you're so beat up?"

The tech-dealer blinks blankly at the waitress.

_Maybe not,_ Icthas grins and leans on his fin-like hand to listen to Argit try and talk his way out of this question.

"Well, uh, the previous client meeting was a cake-walk. It was the deal that roughed me up."

"Ooooh, I hear another awesome story coming up!" Midge croons, resting her cheek against Argit's chest.

"Awesome ain't half of what it is, babe. Imagine this: It's yesterday afternoon, it's been fifteen minutes and my supposed clients haven't shown up and-"

\-------------------

_In reality, last night..._

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." Argit hissed each word with each frantic step he took. He didn't dare glance over his shoulder; he couldn't risk it. They were still hot on his trail, and they were proving relentless. The dogged pursuit had been similar to that of the chimera and her diamond-hard companion the other day.

Except the pair chasing him down that evening had a far more malicious and far more deadly air about them.

It had nothing to do with the metallic mask the man wore or the obsidian glow of his gauntlets. It had nothing to do with the suspicious glow of the gem the woman wore or the way the very air around her thrummed with energy. Argit had seen stranger and more grotesque individuals given the company he keeps. But he always made it a point never to stick around longer than necessary. He liked having his head still attached to his neck.

But no, Argit hadn't been running for his life just because of the way the duo looked.

It could have been the way they seemed to have just emerged out of the darkness, their very presence leeching their surroundings of color and hope. Though their powers illuminated the evening, it was a hungry sort of light. The kind that drew moths to flames in order to watch them die rather than provide comfort or guidance. Considering Argit was more than familiar with skulking about the shadows, the fact that he hadn't picked up on them until he practically ran smack into them made his fur stand on end.

But no, Argit hadn't been running for his life just because of the way the duo appeared.

It could have been the way they spoke, voices casual yet razor-sharp and heavy with impatience for incompetence. The way they addressed each other was patronizing, condescending, practically insulting, but not hostile. It was clear, despite the barbs and the antagonistic exchange between them, that they were on the same wavelengths, they were on the same side. And if they treated someone on their own team that way, Argit didn't want to even consider how they'd treat someone like him.

But no, Argit hadn't been running for his life just because of the way the duo sounded.

Argit had been running for his life because of all of the above combined with the way the duo moved.

Calm, collected, but with a nonchalant menace in each step. Though the man was on foot, he sped after the tech-dealer with a regal grace, the kind that could not be taught. But his gait was laced with a suppressed rage that Argit wasn't certain the masked man _wanted_ to keep suppressed. The woman had taken to the sky, a beautiful, willowy silhouette of poise and sophistication, the kind that could not be so easily emulated. Though her flight suggested a high level of self-control, it was tinged with misdirected resentment and a high tolerance for guilt.

They chased after him not the way a hunter did its prey. While they were indeed predatory in their methods: blocking his escape routes with a well-timed blast of dark aura, or cutting him off with a small explosion of fuchsia, they seemed to be holding back. As if they were intentionally missing him to prolong the chase. As if they were enjoying themselves and were only playing with him.

Argit couldn't be sure, he was on all fours and desperately clawing his way down a dark alley. His goal was a hidden enclave of debris and rubble he had set up for just an occasion. But before he could dive into safety, he found himself enclosed in a fuchsia ball.

"When I said I was in the mood for a little game of _Cat and Mouse_ , I didn't mean it quite so literally," the woman's painted lips pulled into a wry smirk. Her hand was held before her; a beam of fuchsia light connected her fingers to the sphere Argit was currently trapped in.

"Lovely Charmcaster, I told you we'd be doing some pest control today, it's not my fault you misunderstood," The voice of the masked man sounded much younger than what Argit was expecting. In fact, after hearing him talk, Argit had him pegged to be a teenager.

"Really now, Darkstar, I know you can't hobnob with the social elites like you used to. But you'd resort to mingling with _vermin_? I thought you'd have more class than that."

"Hey, don't talk like I can't understand fancy-shmancy talk! I may live in the slums but that don't mean I ain't got class," Argit snarled and pounded an indignant fist against the barrier. Bad enough they had him in what he saw as a giant hamster ball, but they were talking smack about him right in front of him!

"Is that so?" Darkstar asked, the ghoulish smile behind his mask practically audible. He tilted his helmet forward, giving the tech-dealer a glimpse of sunken, faded-blue eyes through the slits in the metal. "Did you hear that? He has class. I bet he has other things as well. That is quite convenient, isn't it?"

"Only if he has anything that mattered." Charmcaster purred and snapped her fingers. The small gesture shattered the fuchsia sphere and dropped Argit to the ground. But he never got the chance to land because Darkstar rushed forward with an uppercut that connected solidly against the tech-dealer's jaw.

The blow sent Argit crashing to the other wall of the alley, away from his hidden enclave.

"Y-you didn't even give me a chance to prove I had something you wanted!!" Argit whined groggily.

"I don't see how," Charmcaster tapped her chin before hurling a small, clay bead at the tech-dealer. The tiny bead expanded several times its size into a massive, rune-inscribed, bipedal, clay golem. With an inhuman roar, the golem charged at Argit and caught him in its grip. "You don't need functioning arms to talk, do you?"

"Now, now, lovely, let's not waste that precious mana of yours. Why don't you conserve it and let me handle this." Darkstar volunteered.

"How gallant," She declared with a mock swoon, "Make it quick, Darkles. You know how Doll gets after a while."

Darkstar marched up to the golem that had Argit in its grip like a squeeze toy. He looked up at the terrified alien, "Hope you have the necessary information because-"

"Doll gets wrist spasms whenever the lady doesn't get what she wants?" Argit squeaked.

"There is that." And again the ghoulish smile could be heard in his voice, "But I'm also getting rather hungry and I'm not very nice when I'm hungry."

"Just cut to the chase and ask him about the A'os Chime." Charmcaster rolled her eyes, arms akimbo with her hip jutting in impatience.

"You heard the lovely lady. Anything and everything about the A'os Chime, if you will. Places, powers, people, so long as it's connected to the artifact we want it."

"I-if I do spill my guts out about the chime-thing, will you let me go in one piece?"

"Doll will let you keep your guts in," Charmcaster smirked, "Can't promise your ribs will be intact, though."

Argit swallowed, audibly, "The chime's some sort of energy beacon. Dunno how it works or what sort of juice powers it, but it ain't easy to find since the maker's been long dead. Turned crispy or something from misusing his own gizmo. Anything else, you're gonna have to ask the Crasterian dealers over in the Lexington. They'd know more about that chime-thing since they knew the last dude who asked about it."

Darkstar turned to the woman, "It sounds too good to be true."

"It probably is, but he _is_ vermin. Not like we'd take his words at face value."

"Point taken," the young man agreed and positioned his palm at the tech-dealer.

"Wait, wait what're you gonna do?" Argit demanded, suddenly struggling to break free from Doll's grip.

The masked man said nothing, though the mouth in his hand opened and shot out a black bolt that quickly had Argit limp as a rag-doll. The clay golem inspected the barely-conscious tech-dealer and looked to its mistress for further instruction.

"Take some of its quills, they'll come in handy for a trace-spell. When you're done, just throw it in the trash where it belongs. Darkstar, what do you think you're doing?" The mana witch demanded as she yanked her arm out of Darkstar's reach.

"I need something to wash out the horrible aftertaste."


	3. Today

"-And that was how I saved my clients from those rabid worlegores. They were a real strong bunch but don't got much up here." Argit explains, tapping his temple with a grimace, "So when they thanked me, instead of giving me a tip the biggest one gave me a hug."

"So _that's_ why you're bruised and hurting. Oh my poor baby!" Midge practically pulls Argit down into her chest, snout-first. The tech-dealer doesn't complain. In fact, he's visibly enjoying himself and even gives the waitress a little nuzzle. She squeals and giggles in response.

Much to Icthas' annoyance.

"So why are you _here_ instead of staying at your place getting some rest?" The bartender asks.

"Gotta see to another deal," Argit answers as he surfaces for air, "When you're as important as me, ain't no such thing as being off the clock."

"Not in here, you are!" Icthas glares, bubbles forming in his tank as he sputters in anger.

"You need to chill, Icthas," It is Argit's turn to snicker, "When have I ever wrecked your place?"

"Do you want the holovid recordings?" The dry response.

Before Argit can counter, the door to the bar opens. In the doorway stands two humans, a dark-haired male with a red-haired female.

"This here's a haven for the civilized folk," Icthas barks, purposely not looking at the rat-like tech-dealer.

"Means: No humans allowed," Midge snarls, her tail unfurling as foot-long spikes emerge from said appendage.

"Chill, both of you, I got this," Argit assures them; jumping up from the stool only to be reminded of the beating his body took the past two days. His sharp, yellowy teeth grinds in suppressed pain with each slow step. He glances over his shoulder and winks to Midge, "Be right back."

* * *

_Outside..._

"Alright, I did want you wanted. Your turn. That my cash in that bag?" Argit demands, holding out a paw to Kevin.

"How do we know you're not lying?" Gwen frowns, arms folded across her chest in suspicion.

"Aw jeez, this here's a business meeting between pros. You mind?" Argit snaps.

"You try to talk to her like that again and I'll-" Kevin growls until Gwen cuts him off.

"It's alright." She waves her hand in dismissal. "You go ahead and have your business meeting. Pretend I'm not here."

"Damn straight you're not," Argit grumbles, swallowing suddenly at the murderous glare Kevin shoots him.

"She's got a point, though. You're pretty much still in one piece. You sure it was them?"

The rat-like alien bristles, he's been called all variations of useless the past two days and it's really starting to get on his nerves. "What, you think I'm new at this game? Just 'cuz the guy in metal can shoot black beams and the chick with the weird dress can throw exploding pink balls don't mean I can't take 'em!"

"Sounds like them." Kevin nods as he hands the bag towards Argit, "And you're sure you gave them the phony info?"

The frown on Argit's snout curls into a grin at the sight of the bag, "'Course I gave them the info! They asked about the A'os Chime so I sent them to see the Crasterian dealers over in Lexington. Like you told me to."

The grin on Argit's snout twists into a snarl when Kevin pulls the bag out of his reach. "Hey! Are you double-crossing me?"

"Like you hadn't done that to me," the human narrows his eyes, "But no. I ain't double-crossing you. I'm just not _paying_ you because you didn't give them the phony info."

"What?!"

"Kevin's right," Gwen pipes up, "You were supposed to send them to the Galaxian Ruins of Nestur IV."

"What? No! You told me to tell anyone who asks about the chime-thing to go to the dealers!"

Kevin rolls his eyes, "No, that ain't it. But sending them to the Crasterian dealers ain't really such a bad idea."

"What is a Cra-whatever-ian dealer?" The red-head asks, unable to resist her curiosity.

"They're a group that fronts as interstellar music dealers when what they're really pushing are mind-altering holojectors. They're also gluttons and sometimes end up eating their clients and contacts. Or they try to."

"Aw, no, that can't be right." Argit starts to feel weak.

"Hey, we're the ones who came up with this plan." Kevin reminds him.

"S-so what's in the Galaxian Ruins?" Argit gulps, audibly.

"Traps that throw you into the Null Void." Kevin shrugs, "Guess as long as you hadn't sent anyone there, Gwen and I can disarm them in time."

"H-how long will that take?"

"Well when you factor in my Karate sessions, Ben's soccer practice," Gwen calculates, "Oh, and Julie's tennis lessons, it'll take a week or two."

"Aw, no, that means I- and they- and they're-"

_Oh fuck!_

All the blood drains from Argit's face and he's on his knees with his hands clutching at his head. He looks up at Kevin and begs, "C'mon Kev, be a pal and give me the money. I'm gonna need some serious protection!"

"That ain't our deal. And if you try quilling us, that ain't gonna work either." The dark-haired human pulls at the photonic-displacement mask to reveal his currently mutated form. "It's not gonna go through my skin."

"Gwen, babe, doll, have a heart! Use some of that mana-juju to hide me or something!"

"I'm sorry, this is a business meeting between pros." She mimics, "I'm not really here."

Kevin smirks as he re-dons his disguise, "Let's go, Gwen. I think Ben's going to have another one of his smoothie-binges if we make him wait any longer."

"I wouldn't worry. Julie should have reigned him in, some."

Helplessly, Argit watches the pair get into Kevin's car and drive off. Leaving the tech-dealer to deal with his problems on his own.

Dealing in the black market is a very stressful, often times hazardous occupation. Funny how a couple million credits would have made it all worth it.

At least, that's what Argit tells himself on a bad day.

Slowly, he stands, turns on his heels, and marches straight back into The Warehouse. He plans on drowning his sorrows.

Or himself.

Whichever he can afford first.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it isn't obvious, Argit lied. Like, a lot.


End file.
